


The Day After

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: A Breath of Home [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ryan meet at the 2011 San Diego Comic Con and hot sex ensues. In this chapter: Ryan fled in the early morning. Will Sam show up to his panel as promised?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day After

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the RPG Citadel, this is NOT backstory for our pups in the game. In Citadel, Sam is played as the actor and Ryan is played AU as a songwriter. And then a little birdie told us our boys were going to be at SDCC at the same time in real life and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what would happen in another world, with the boys both as their actor selves.

Ryan tugs at the hem of his shirt, then scratches his head, which only reminds him that he wishes the make-up girl hadn't put _quite_ so much gel in his hair. Good thing the slicked-back look is in style again, although he's not sure they actually owe David Beckham any thanks for that.

"Yeah. Ready," he says, giving Joe a smile, and grins as Summer rests her head on his shoulder. They've gotten a big crowd for the _Knights of Badassdom_ panel, much bigger than any of them were expecting, and the excitement among the cast is palpable. They're about to premiere the trailer for the first time, and everyone is equal parts psyched and nervous to see what the fans' reaction will be -- with a subject like LARPing, the fan response can definitely make or break this film. But despite the suspense, Ryan's mind keeps wandering. He hauled ass out of Sam's hotel room at about six this morning, praying like a coward that he wouldn't get caught. And he's done nothing but think about Sam in the hours since. What the fuck were they doing last night? What the fuck was _he_ doing? Sam had been straightforward about what he liked and what he wanted. It's his own self that has Ryan so fucking confused now.

Taking a deep breath, he squeezes Summer's hand as the panel mediator announces the film to the crowd. The cast files out onto the stage to near-deafening screams and he takes his seat with a grin, instantly blinded by the hot stage lights.

Sam slips in at the back once the audience and panel is in place. His own security's not happy with him wandering around and his agent's pissed off that he's still at the con when he doesn't need to be there but he told Ryan he'd be here and here he is.

The questions fed through the mediator are pretty steady and predictable - Have you ever done any real LARPing? Was the movie fun to make? - and Ryan is more than content to sit back and let his castmates and director answer. He smiles when it's appropriate, cracks up a few times at Joe's enthusiasm, and generally tries to look like he's truly paying attention even as he attempts to scan the crowd for a familiar figure. He keeps coming up empty, though, and he bites his lip when Summer nudges him pointedly.

Expectant silence stretches, and her smirk tells him that she's totally onto his game, but she takes pity and whispers, "Is it different fighting a succubus than fighting a vampire?"

"Oh, yeah," Ryan says, chuckling in an attempt to cover for his lapse. He picks up the microphone and addresses the crowd. "I mean, totally. Vampires can only be killed in certain ways, you know that, but the point is that yeah, they can be killed. A succubus from hell, though, she's pretty much untouchable. She wants to eat you, same as the vamps do, but you really don't have any tried-and-true defenses in place. Plus," he adds with a sly grin, "our succubus is way prettier than Alex Skarsgard." He knows he's deliberately stirring the pot.

Sam laughs along with everyone else, a little voice in the back of his mind wondering whether there's anything more to the comment. And then whether it matters if there is. He doesn't have any claim on Ryan and he's unlikely to have one, what with the way the other man high-tailed it out of his room at the fucking crack of dawn leaving only a note. The most he can probably hope for is one more night if he's lucky. And he's hoping to be.

Ryan fields the inevitable Jason Stackhouse question with what he hopes is grace and charm, and gently steers the conversation back towards their film. The last thing he wants is to steal anyone's thunder. Pretty soon, though, Joe is talking about how Dinklage schooled _everyone_ in the fight training, and it's easy to sit back and laugh and let his gaze wander again. Then he sighs; there's no way he's going to find Sam in this crowd. _If he even came_ , pipes up that annoying little voice in Ryan's head, and he has to work to bite back his frown. Thankfully, the questions start blurring together and soon it's time to stand up and thank the audience, waving a last goodbye as he heads back into the green room.

It takes Sam longer to make it back, security grabbing him the moment the panel finishes up and people realize he's there as well. He signs a few more autographs then politely declines the next requests, using security as his excuse as they herd him back to the green room.

The familiar pangs of post-interview hunger spike through Ryan as he smiles and talks with his castmates, and he excuses himself to go load up a plate from catering. Make that two plates, because that fried fish smells amazing... His ears perk up suddenly and his head whips around, and he nearly drops all his food when he spies Sam.

"Hey." Sam's all grin, closing the distance between them. "Brilliant panel."

"Thanks." Ryan smiles back, surprised by the way his heart gives a sudden hard thump. "I'm so glad you could make it." And he's relieved that Sam doesn't seem annoyed about him bailing this morning.

"I wouldn't have missed it," Sam says simply. "Although I missed you this morning," he adds, picking up a plate.

Surprised, Ryan carefully keeps his gaze on the table. He grabs a napkin and hands it to Sam before picking up one for himself. "I don't sleep a whole lot," he mumbles in explanation. "And the waves were great."

Sam nods, piling food on his plate. He suspects there's more to it than that but he's not going to push. "You seemed really comfortable up there," he says. "With the panel. You get along well with the fans."

"Yeah? Good," Ryan says, nodding. "It's a lot easier to answer questions about a movie that's being premiered than about TV episodes that haven't aired yet. I sound like such a politician when people want spoilers for True Blood." He gestures at a couple of chairs clustered around a low table, outside the flow of traffic.

Sam laughs. He grabs a beer and takes a seat beside from Ryan. "When do you head out?" he asks, spearing a piece of fried fish with his fork. "You still here tonight?"

"Flying out around nine," Ryan answers, carefully separating his vegetables from his fish, and his fish from his rice. "Back to Los Angeles for a few days, and then I'm headed to Sydney for a couple months. You?"

"I was supposed to fly out this morning," Sam says with a smile. "I haven't rebooked yet. But I'm back to L.A. for a few days too and then to Sydney, but I'm headed out to Margaret River." He gives Ryan a look. "What are you doing in Sydney?"

"Shooting a movie," Ryan answers. His heartbeat starts to race as he absorbs the implications. They talked about it last night, sure, but this is the first time he's dared to believe that they might actually hook up again. The idea arouses him... and simultaneously scares the hell out of him. "I've never been to Margaret River, but I heard Surfer's Point is amazing. You going on holiday?" he asks, looking up to meet Sam's eyes. He's stunned all over again by just how blue they are, the latent intensity there.

"Nah. Shooting a movie there too. Surfing movie. Drift?" Sam says, not sure if Ryan's heard of it. "You should come out and visit." He knows he's coming on strong, but something tells him it might actually be better to go that way. Make sure Ryan knows he means what he says. What he said last night.

"Yeah, maybe I'll do that," Ryan murmurs. He mechanically lifts his fork to his mouth and chews, but he's suffused with memory, his own words to Sam last night: _I want to molest you in every way I can think of._ It's still true. "So, have you got some time this afternoon? To hang out?"

"All I've got is time," Sam says with a smile, watching Ryan. Itching to get his hands on him again. "What did you have in mind?"

God, that smile -- it just makes Ryan's insides start jumping. His eyes go hot as he considers just what he's got in mind, but he can't say it aloud. Not here. He shrugs and whispers, "We'll just... figure it out, I guess."

Sam nods. "Are you already packed up?" he asks, making quick work of his lunch.

"Nah, not yet. I need to go back to my room," Ryan answers. He shovels down the last of his fish before starting on his rice. Hell, any excuse to get Sam back to the hotel sounds damn good to him.

"Want to grab your stuff and come back to my room?" Sam asks, not caring if anyone hears. Christ knows this is the same sort of shit he does with guys who are just his mates. "I can probably get on your flight and we can have a few beers, talk some more about Aus."

"Yeah, sounds good." And just like that, Ryan's cock starts to swell. He winces, moving his plate into his lap.

Sam fishes his phone out of his pocket and calls Sherry, the woman in charge of coordinating everyone's flight and room arrangements for the con. "What flight are you on?" he asks Ryan, giving her the number and time when he gets her. She says she'll check and call to confirm. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be at the hotel til then." He grins. "Drinking. With Ryan Kwanten." He laughs. "I'll tell him you said that."

"What's that?" Ryan asks, curious. He wipes his mouth with his napkin, finished carbo-loading for now.

"She says we're too hot to be in the same room and she'd give her eye-teeth to join us if she could," Sam says with a wide-easy grin, popping the last piece of his fish into his mouth and tucking his phone back into his jeans.

"Got it," Ryan says, chuckling softly. He ducks his head on a grin, then glances at Sam's empty plate. "Dessert?"

"Not unless you mean back at the hotel," Sam says, pushing his plate away. Christ Ryan's cute when he's all shy like that.

"Definitely." _Fuck_. Now Ryan has to get up and walk. He shifts, getting to his feet, plate in one hand as he tugs at the hem of his shirt with the other. Not quite long enough. He keeps an eye out for innocent bystanders, carefully making his way through the crowd to a trash can. And he feels like a fucking teenager again, awkward and horny at all the wrong times.

Sam follows Ryan, more than a little amused by how nervous the other man seems. He's not sure what Ryan's been doing or with whom, but he wants to find out. Wants to find out everything about him. He tosses his plate in the trash and leads the way out through the back, calling on security to grab them a car.

It's hard for Ryan to keep his distance from Sam. He shoves his hands into his pockets, itching to touch. God, he has so many questions. And even though he's never been short on courage, he's not sure he's got the balls to ask any of them. Leaning against the wall as they wait for the car to be brought around, he lets his gaze cross Sam's. And their eyes lock, a shock of intense recognition flaring through him.

Jesus Christ. All Sam can think is how badly he wants Ryan. Right here, right now. And while he's used to desire, he's not used to this, this intensity, this stripped-down, laid-bare _need_ to possess. Fuck. Which is definitely something he'd better not share with Ryan.

Color rises on Ryan's cheeks - god, he can _feel_ himself blushing - and still he can't stop staring at Sam, his mouth dry and his chest tight. He takes a slow step closer, and then another. Close enough to just lift his hand and touch, now.

Reality abruptly intrudes when the black Ford Explorer pulls up to the curb, and Ryan falls back. Sweating in disbelief that he nearly fucking did that.

They're going to fucking combust. Sam’s sure of it. Before they even reach the hotel. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you," he whispers against Ryan's ear as he opens the back door and gestures for him to slide across.

Ryan presses his lips together tight, barely holding back a moan. He scoots to the far end, a fine shiver still lingering after Sam's tease. And he officially reclassifies his erection as Painfully Hard. Laying his hand in the middle of the seat, could-be boundary, could-be invitation.

There's no way the driver can see the seat between them and Sam takes advantage of that. He slides his hand across to meet Ryan's, letting his fingers brush over the back.

Turning his hand palm-up, Ryan links his fingers with Sam's. It's a small touch, casual, but the simple forbidden freedom of _touching_ just feels so damn good.

It's unexpected, that acceptance, that embrace of gesture, and Sam's breath catches hard in his throat. Fuck. He looks out the window. Stares blindly at the buildings, cars, people passing by before glancing over at Ryan again.

Ryan's watching him. Trying _not_ to watch him, really, but failing miserably. "You're not seeing anyone?" he asks softly, belatedly wondering.

Sam shakes his head. "No. I was for a while, about a year ago, but it wasn't serious," he says, giving Ryan a small smile. "You?"

"Too much work," Ryan replies, then thinks over his words. _Freudian slip, anyone?_ "I mean, I work too much. It's been a few years since I tried to get serious about anyone, and even then it didn't work too well."

If Ryan's trying to warn him off, it's not going to work. "Maybe it was the wrong time, or they were the wrong person," Sam suggests. "Were they an actor too?"

"Nah, she was a swimsuit model. That's the last time I date one of them," Ryan says ruefully. "She was unbelievably self-absorbed. And I guess _I'm_ just too self-absorbed to tolerate that," he says with a chuckle. Even if she did have amazing breasts; they didn't quite make up for everything else.

Sam laughs. "Mine was a stylist. Which was okay except she kept wanting to change me. At one point she packed up all my t-shirts and tried to send them off to Salvos."

"Blasphemy," Ryan says. "Was that the beginning of the end? Or was that the final straw? I mean, you touch a man's t-shirts..."

Sam laughs even more. "It was the final straw," he says after a moment, more seriously, shaking his head. "I couldn't stand the thought of being with someone who didn't accept everything about me."

"Yeah," Ryan says softly. He bites his lip, considering for a moment before he finally asks, "Was she kinky?" He shrugs apologetically. "I mean, I know it's absolutely none of my business." He's just dying to know. Needs to know that about Sam: just how far into his life his desires extend.

"Mildly," Sam says with a smile, glancing at the driver, relieved to see he's not paying them any attention, the music upfront loud enough to cover for their conversation. "But she was okay with me finding outlets for the harder stuff."

"Interesting," Ryan muses. "So she could take the menage a trois, but not the Motorhead?" He can't help it, he snickers, squeezing Sam's hand.

"Pretty much," Sam says, smiling over at Ryan and squeezing back. "That part's not make or break. I like vanilla too," well, his version of it, "and I like what we did last night."

Just like that Ryan flushes, dropping his gaze. "Yeah," he breathes, turning his head to stare blindly out the window. "I... I thought it was pretty amazing." Vulnerable. Scary. And so fucking fulfilling.

Fuck. That blush is going to be the death of Sam, his cock reacting instantly. "Any particular part, or all of it?"

"All of it," Ryan murmurs, daring to meet Sam's eyes again. He studies him for a long silent moment -- the planes of his face, the lushness of his lips. The intensity of Sam's gaze. "You can bite me again, if you want."

Sam smiles, eyes sparkling. "All over?"

 _Oh, god_. The idea instantly takes over Ryan's imagination, flooding his mind. Lust spikes through him. "Yes," he whispers, before he even realizes it. Then he prudently amends, "I mean, I'm filming in three weeks." How long do bite marks take to fade?

“Any marks I give you'll be gone by then," Sam assures Ryan, his smile turning to a full-out grin as they pull to a stop in front of the hotel.

Too caught up for speech, Ryan can only nod shakily. He follows Sam inside, his hands firmly back in his pockets. "And what about you?" he asks softly while they wait for the elevator. "What do you like? Done to you, I mean?"

"I like nails and teeth," Sam says, smiling, shoulder nudging Ryan's as they wait. "With the right person, I like pretty much anything."

That... doesn't tell Ryan a whole lot, and of course his mind goes haring off trying to imagine what Sam's definition of 'pretty much anything' might mean. Just _how_ kinky does he get? Ryan reflects that he's probably crazy for wondering.

They step into the lift and Ryan leans against the wall, several safe feet away from Sam. God, he feels like he's going to explode if he can't touch him soon.

"You want to grab your stuff first?" Sam asks. "Bring it back to my room?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good." Ryan presses the button for the seventh floor. "You want to leave for the airport around seven?" he asks, checking his watch. "That should give us plenty of time to get through security." And hours together in the privacy of Sam's suite.

"Sounds good," Sam nods, pressing eight, thrilled with the way things are shaping up. "See you in a few minutes?"

"Yeah." Ryan bites his lip, trying to recall just what Sam tasted like last night. He remembers it was fucking intoxicating.

The lift arrives at the seventh floor and Ryan nods once, slipping past Sam to head down the hall. He's so damn excited that it takes him three times to successfully swipe his keycard, and then he's a blur of motion as he packs up all his gear.

It takes Sam next to no time to shove his few possessions into his duffle bag. He stretches out on the couch, palming his cock through his jeans, eyes on the door, just waiting for Ryan. He knows they both have to be careful given their careers but he's known for partying and crashing with his mates so there's no reason anyone should suspect anything else with Ryan - especially since it seems they both like women too.

It can't be even ten minutes before Ryan knocks on Sam's door. His heart is fucking racing. He questions what the fuck he's getting into, again. But nothing could make him turn away.

Off the couch in an instant, Sam opens the door, motioning for Ryan to enter. "Hey. Got everything?"

"Hope so," Ryan says with a shrug and a crooked smile. He shoulders past Sam and sets his bag down on the floor, turning back to face the man. Hands in his pockets again, and his heart feeling like it's about to beat out of his chest.

Sam closes the door and steps into Ryan's space, hands coming up to cup the other man's face. He kisses him, hard, tongue diving into his mouth, plundering it. Body pressed close, letting him feel the already-hard ridge of his cock through his jeans.

 _Fuck. Yes._ Ryan feels like he's been waiting forever for this touch. He tangles his fingers in Sam's t-shirt and jerks him impossibly closer, wrapping his leg around Sam's waist. Rubbing against him as he drowns in the kiss.

Sam groans into Ryan’s mouth and grinds back, loving the way Ryan matches his passion, his ferocity. Kisses harder, rougher, biting at Ryan's lips before reminding himself to keep the marks where they can't be seen.

With a moan Ryan breaks the kiss, just long enough to drag Sam's shirt up and off. He tosses it aside and jerks with a shock of lust, ducking his head to kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder. The kiss quickly turns feral, though, Ryan's hunger overtaking him as he sucks hard, digging his teeth in.

"Oh, fuck," Sam gasps, his cock jerking roughly against the zipper of his jeans. He cups the back of Ryan's head in one hand, urging him on, while the other pulls open Ryan's jeans, working its way inside, fingers curling around Ryan's cock.

Ryan whimpers, bucking into Sam's hand. God, he wants to eat him alive. He licks frantically and shoves his jeans and shorts down, helpfully baring himself. So close to coming on mere adrenaline.

"Floor, fuck," Sam groans, the word the only warning Ryan gets before he's pushing them both down, hips between Ryan's thighs, his hand still gripping Ryan's cock, stroking roughly, his mouth all fucking over him. Biting again at his mouth, jaw, throat.

Shocked, Ryan arches against the carpet. He buries his hands in Sam's hair with a cry, giving himself up to the raging flood of sensation. And in mere seconds he's coming, overwhelmed and so fucking aroused he can't hold it back.

Sam's brain short-circuits when he feels Ryan unload against his front, wet heat soaking through his jeans. But he quickly gets it back online, kneeling up to free his cock and get a condom on over it as quickly as he can. "Legs up," he orders, too fucking hard to bother with lube. His mouth on Ryan's hole, tongue inside him, the moment Ryan obeys.

"Jesus _Christ!_ " Already fuzzy, now Ryan's mind whites out entirely. No one has ever done this to him, _ever_. He reels with shock, shudders flashing through him like bolts of lightning. It feels so fucking good, so intensely wrong, and Sam is going at it like he wants it just as bad. All Ryan can do is whimper and hitch his knees higher.

Sam licks at Ryan until his hole's a sloppy mess, open and wet and just waiting for him. And then he draws back, getting himself lined up and pushing in, hard, certain Ryan can take it.

Ryan's shout bounces off the walls. Fuck, it _hurts_ , and he comes damn close to shoving Sam off of him. But then Sam sinks even deeper, the motion of his hips wrenching a moan from Ryan's core, and he finds himself sliding his hands over the man’s back to keep him close.

"That's it. Yeah. Fuck," Sam groans, driving into Ryan, the tight heat making his head spin and his cock ache so sharply it's all he can do not to come like a schoolboy.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god," Ryan whispers, feeling dizzy and barely connected to himself. He slips his hands down to cover Sam's ass. And he sharply digs his nails in.

"Fuck, yeah," Sam gasps. "Harder," urging Ryan on, his mouth on his throat again, licking and sucking and... Christ. He shifts back a bit, shoving Ryan’s shirt out of the way and getting his mouth on Ryan's left nipple, teeth scraping at the rigid nub.

Ryan shouts again, his head slamming back against the carpet. He's getting hard once more, in what's got to be record time -- Sam's teeth just put him right on the edge. He rakes his nails down Sam's thighs, deliberately digging in hard.

Sam bites at the nipple, grinding it between his teeth, determined to find out this time just how much Ryan can take, cock pistoning in and out of his hole. So fucking close himself he knows he's on borrowed time.

There's no way those desperate pleading whimpers are spilling out of Ryan -- no _way_. He bucks against Sam, beginning to frantically rub against him, rocking his hips to slam him deeper every time. The biting blazes through him, taking him over. He lets go, clawing at Sam's back as he explodes again with a wordless yell.

 _Yes, fuck, yes._ Sam slams into Ryan, holding nothing back, once, twice and again, before coming, hard, spurting hotly into the latex, his teeth gritted against shouting out.

For what seems like hours, all Ryan can do is gasp, lying flat on his back and staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling. Slowly he manages to lift his heavy head, and he licks sweat from Sam's shoulder. "Think I might've marked you," he murmurs.

"Mm." Sam grins lazily. "Good." His grin widening. "I _know_ I marked you."

"Yeah?" Ryan peers down the length of his body, trying to see what Sam means. Then he gives it up, figuring there'll be plenty of time for that later. "So," he says softly, his breathing still not quite normal, "now what?"

"Today or period?" Sam asks, pushing up to his forearms so he can get a better look at Ryan.

Ryan blinks and then stares up at Sam, mesmerized. "I... I just meant for today," he says softly. Although of course he's now wondering about an uncertain future.

"Today, we get undressed," Sam says, grinning down at their still semi-dressed state. "And we get into bed and you let me find out what else you like."

"Okay," Ryan says with a shiver, although he figures he's pretty straightforward with what he likes -- no great mysteries there. First, though... "Come here," he whispers, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair and pulling him in for a tentative kiss. It's a strange flavor, musky and darker than semen, but not bad. And if Sam's willing to lick his ass, then Ryan's certainly going to kiss him afterwards.

"Mm." Sam smiles at the kiss. "You never had anyone do that before?" he asks, guessing at the reason behind the tentativeness.

"No," Ryan whispers, licking his lips. He stares at Sam in a kind of wonder, feeling just as overwhelmed and out of his depth as he did last night. "I didn't know it could feel so good."

Sam grins. "It gets even better," he says, shifting a little, his fingers around the condom as he pulls out. "I promise."

Sitting up, Ryan loops his arms around his knees and watches Sam, the casual athletic grace with which he moves. "You promise, huh?" He should be all fucked-out right now, but Sam's words have excitement coiling anew in his gut. "Guess I'd better get my ass in bed then."

Sam nods. "Stretch out on your stomach and I'll be right there," he says with a smile.

What could Sam possibly have in mind now? Ryan can't even begin to imagine. But god, he wants to find out. He feels like he's falling under a spell, ready to flow with any mad thing Sam might suggest. Heading into the bedroom, he drags off his clothes before pulling the bedspread and covers off the bed, then lies down in the center of the bed, propping his chin on his arms.

"First things first," Sam says, coming into the bedroom, having shed the rest of his clothes on the way. He climbs onto the bed and straddles the back of Ryan's thighs, leaning forward to set his phone in front of Ryan. "Name, address, e-mail, and all your numbers."

"You've forgotten my name already?" Glancing up at him, Ryan smiles crookedly. "All right," he murmurs, drawing up Sam's contact list. It's not the easiest thing to concentrate on mundane things like numbers with the way Sam is sitting on him, but somehow he manages. Before he hands the phone back, he calls his own cell, archiving Sam's number.

Sam chuckles and waits until Ryan's handed back the phone and it’s set safely aside before laying his hands on Ryan's back and stroking over his shoulders and down his arms. "I know you probably don't need to be any more relaxed, but I want you to close your eyes and just feel what I'm doing."

"Okay." Ryan's game for that. Sam's hands on him? Hell, he'd probably take them any way he can get them right now. And god they feel good, a steady soothing touch, warm and strong.

"That's it," Sam murmurs, nodding, working over every inch of Ryan's back from the nape of his neck to his tailbone.

It's relaxing, definitely. But at the same time it's arousing, blood pulsing lazily in Ryan's cock like a third erection in an hour ain't no big thing. He melts deeper into the bed with a contented sigh.

Sam digs his thumbs into the spots on either side of Ryan's tailbone, rubbing deeply before moving lower, those same thumbs spreading Ryan's cheeks, opening him for Sam's inspection.

Ryan's breath hitches, tension instantly riding his shoulders. But he holds his position, implicitly giving Sam permission to continue.

"Remember what I said about it getting even better?" Sam murmurs, shifting back and leaning down, the tip of his tongue stroked right over Ryan's hole.

Startled, Ryan jerks against the bed with a gasp. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to will his nerves away. And then he spreads his thighs wider.

Sam licks over that tight pucker. Licks a little deeper, tasting the remnants of lube from the condom and something darker, muskier, something Ryan and Ryan alone, fuck - his cock jerking roughly between his thighs, struggling to fill again already.

Ryan didn't think anything could feel as good as a killer blowjob, but... _damn_. Sam's tongue is teasing out nerves he didn't even know he owned, and pleasure sparks through him. He whimpers softly, instantly embarrassed by the vulnerable sound.

There's nothing like hearing Ryan whimper, like knowing he's pulled that sound from him. Knowing he wants more. Sam licks deeper and still deeper, forcing his tongue inside, past that first tight ring of muscle, nosing between Ryan's cheeks until he has his tongue as far in as he can go. Slowly fucking Ryan's hole open.

"Ohhh, god," Ryan moans, burying his face in the pillow. He gently starts to rock his hips, needing friction on his spike-hard cock. "That's so good," he whispers, feeling like Sam is unraveling him from his core.

Grinning, Sam doubles his efforts, picking up speed, his tongue plunged in harder, faster, urging Ryan on, wanting another orgasm from him.

That single-minded onslaught -- it's fucking overwhelming. Gritting his teeth through another whimper, Ryan snakes a hand beneath himself, grabbing his cock and jerking it harshly. When he comes this time it's like he's dissolving, melting into the bed in a rush and sobbing for breath.

Sam groans, his cock throbbing violently as Ryan's body tightens around his tongue, forcing him out. He kneels up, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking hard. "Don't move," he says, his other hand on Ryan's hip, urging him to stay where he is, working his cock faster and more roughly until just a few strokes later, he's coming, spurt after hot heavy spurt spattering the small of Ryan's back, the cleft of his ass.

It's just one more shock, that searing of Ryan's flesh. Sam just _came on him_ , and he's pretty sure he'd be freaked out about that if he had any brain cells left to panic with. As it is he just moans, shivering with a wicked aftershock.

"Oh, fuck," Sam breathes, looking down at Ryan, the sight in front of him one straight out of his fantasies. "God. Look at you," he murmurs, dropping back down, his tongue on Ryan again, licking up every last drop.

Ryan's whimper is loud this time. Fuck, he can't even think straight anymore; every time he thinks he's getting a grip on the situation, Sam just goes and blows his fucking mind again. He shivers but lies still, letting Sam do whatever he wants to do. Offering himself up.

Ryan cleaned up, Sam stretches out beside him, arm around his waist, a soft kiss pressed to his shoulder. "You okay?" he asks.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Ryan nods. He's not okay. But he has no damn clue _why_ he's not okay. And that freaks him out even more, because he's generally a very laidback kind of guy, not really prone to panicking. Until Sam, apparently.

"Want to talk about it?" Sam offers, feeling the tension in Ryan's frame, seeing it in his face.

Ryan huffs a soft laugh, surprised yet again by Sam's directness. "You talk about things like this?" he asks, cracking open one eye to peer at the man.

"Yeah. Definitely. Especially about things like this," Sam says, not adding that usually it's beforehand, negotiating, setting out limits and such. Besides, here he wants to talk as much because he wants Ryan to feel comfortable with him, to want to see him again, to want to do all this and more with him again.

 _God_. Ryan sighs softly, trying to make sense of the muddle in his head. "I... I guess I'm just not used to anything feeling so intense," he explains haltingly. He feels so fucking vulnerable right now, with a guy he only met yesterday. It scares him.

"Well, if it helps, you're not the only one," Sam says softly, kissing Ryan's shoulder again. "I'm more used to doing this than you are, but it doesn't usually feel like this. This... connection, this intensity."

"Yeah?" That's actually kind of comforting, and Ryan opens his eyes so he can focus on Sam's face. Lifting his hand, he traces a fingertip around the shape of Sam's lips. "You feel it too?" he asks softly, even though he feels stupid for asking -- Sam remained in control while he lost it. How could that possibly have felt vulnerable?

"Yeah." Sam nods. "If I wasn't worried about scaring you off, I'd already be pushing you to make plans for us to see each other again."

Ryan drops his gaze, thinking about that. "I definitely want to see you again," he says softly, smoothing his hand over Sam's shoulder, down his arm. "Maybe on the flight home we can get our seats together, and just talk." It will be a short flight, true, but it's a start.

"That sounds good," Sam says with a smile, pulling Ryan in for another kiss, this one on the mouth. "Think you can manage a fourth time?"


End file.
